


When A Stranger Calls

by reddish



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: M/M, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-28
Updated: 2014-06-28
Packaged: 2018-02-06 12:48:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1858617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reddish/pseuds/reddish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tavin's been away from Alistair for the events of Awakening, and Alistair misses him. Smut ensues. It's really to the point.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When A Stranger Calls

The stranger came long after the sun had set over the cliffs of Amaranthine. Tavin stood over his writing desk, rapping his knuckles idly on the dark wood as he considered the supply orders. Recruitment had increased recently, despite the dark times (or perhaps because of?), and he was unsure how to best estimate their needs in the coming months. Winter would strike soon, too. Perhaps overestimating would be safer…

The door to his study opened, without a knock of warning. Though he did not turn, Tavin’s left hand sought the dagger at his hip while his right hand began to crackle with stored energy. Ears twitching, he listened for the footfall that came with his visitor. Heavy thuds, not those of a silent assassin or someone full of grace.

He smiled.

Firm, broad hands gripped Tavin’s hips and pulled him back against the larger body behind him. The cloth of a large hood brushed the tip of Tavin’s ear, a pleasant tickle soon amplified by the brush of coarse facial hair against his cheek.

“Your Grace,” Tavin mused, winding his fingers over his guest’s. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“I missed you,” Alistair whispered before inhaling deeply against Tavin’s neck. His hands explored the landscape of Tavin’s hips and stomach, sending a familiar flood of warmth down his flesh.

Thoughts became fog, an electricity storm in his mind and body. Tavin’s next inhale was shuddered breath. “You came alone?”

Alistair’s fingers dragged over Tavin’s navel on their descent. “I came for you.” Hot, wet lips then sought a home on his neck that drew all the blood and sensation to the surface of Tavin’s awareness.

“I didn’t know, or I would have prepared a royal welcome.”

A laugh became a desperate, hungry sigh when Alistair’s fingers caressed the skin just at his pelvis. The king pushed forward against him, pressing a familiar hardness into his back while he took careful hold of Tavin’s sensitive,budding arousal.

Tavin whimpered and bucked against him. Sparks filled his vision; energy he had not felt in months swirled up the tendrils of his tattoos. He groaned Alistair’s name and fumbled behind him to reach for the cock pushed against him. Pants proved little challenge for Tavin’s nimble fingers, and he danced his touch up and down Alistair’s shaft.

The touch distracted Alistair’s teeth as they nibbled at Tavin’s ear. Soon, he was moaning into it. “This is all the welcome I wanted, love.”

“All? _Ma’vhenan_ , please.” Tavin was not above begging _this_ human, and he furthered the point by swirling his thumb over Alistair’s slick head.

“Oh, Maker,” Alistair grunted, pushing forward against him in pure instinct as his fingers stroked Tavin slowly. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Tavin panted. “And I want you. Creators, please. It’s been so long.” Somewhere, he drew up the focus to draw power into his hand, lining it gradually with slickness to prepare his lover.

“Too long,” Alistair agreed as he pushed forward against the sensuous grip. With growing urgency, he pulled at Tavin’s hemline, lowering it over the curve of his hip and thighs. "Do you want this?" His question had a lilt of foreknowledge, a brazen finger tauntingly caressing the supple skin of his slender ass.

"Please, Alistair."

"Oh, I like that."

The sound of Alistair's satisfied smile felt like heaven against Tavin, making his heart race even before the firm, calloused hands guided him forward over his desk. His attention was fixated on the slick warmth of Alistair's cock against his skin, his breath shallow and desperate, awaiting.

Pressure and pain filled his senses as Alistair pushed into him, a feeling he had been long months without, and wanted never to lose again. Papers shifted beneath him, and his concern was nowhere near the supplies of his men. It was here, now. The pleasant ache of Alistair's body returning time and time against his, the instinctual grunts of effort and ecstasy that poured from his lover's lips, the careful, eager fingers that circled and stroked Tavin's own throbbing erection, it all overwhelmed him.

A barrier broke within Tavin, as his perception expanded beyond its mundane confines and the utter knowledge of both himself and Alistair became complete in that moment. He felt Alistair inside of him in a multitude of ways, their hearts and spirits working in as much sync as their hips and thrusts.

It was bliss.

Awash in a sea of sensation and pleasure, it was all Tavin could do to remember to breathe. Alistair moved faster against him, his grip tightening as Tavin recognized him to be close to the edge. The human bent over Tavin and nestled firmly into the crook of his neck as he pushed into him. Against his tattoos, Tavin felt Alistair licking, nibbling, sucking. The attention of fingers and teeth and tongue and lips was more than Tavin could bear; a wave of thunder shot through him, straight to his belly and his cock. The room was filled with Tavin's breathless cries as he spasmed and came against Alistair's hand, soon followed by the throaty, deep groan of Alistair's completion with one final, passionate thrust.

When he started to draw away, Alistair was stilled by a quick, albeit tired, hand. "Please. Stay."

"Your wish is my command, my love."

Tavin blinked back sudden tears as he cherished the feeling of Alistair against him. "I love you."

"And I love you." Alistair chuckled and kissed his way down Tavin's ear. "Aren't you tired? I'm knackered. And starving."

Tavin laughed and released his hand, allowing them both to clean up and make themselves look somewhat presentable. When he finally had a moment to appreciate the full view of him, Tavin realized just how different Alistair looked. He had grown a goatee, for one. Mainly, though, the lines of leadership had settled in on his eyes and cheeks. It suited him.

"So the king demands a late dinner, hm?"

Alistair smiled sheepishly, a rosy blush filling his cheeks. "Well, I had my dessert already. I'm a bad boy."

"Just couldn't help yourself, hm?"

One hand cupped Tavin's chin, drawing his gaze up to Alistair's loving smile. "I never could."


End file.
